Twinges of Discomfort

Oh just look at us, two adorable dozy goofs Babes in bobble hats, holding hands in the storm Mum with her new camera new hairdo new smile

When Mum died I went through her stuff and found it we should recreate that photo I said You remember how happy Mum was that day

He said yes but we should swap colours now you in the green and me in the mustard. NO HATS. He was smirking, he was doing a lot of that lately

A week later he turned up, stars on his tits like Aladdin Sane So be it, you adorable goof I said And set the timer on mum’s old camera. 

Ping.

As the old one dies so a new one rises A child bright and clean of limb Let her be lifted up and dedicated Let her eyes be sealed, all the better to watch over us

Young virgin, ageless goddess Lady of the strong green shoot we pray you

Give us abundant blossom and toiling bees Golden corn gathered up in stooks Keep cow and calf alive until slaughter Berry, nut and grain in the jar all winter

Blessed virgin, eternal goddess Lady of the strong green shoot we pray you

Fill the breast that feeds the young hero Feeds the warrior who fights the invader Curse the demon who crosses the threshold Wither the witch that steals the babe

Part one here

Part two

Detective Jones walked back up to the big house. Lady Alverdiscott watched him go, the smile gradually fading from her lips. Without looking down she ran the silk scarf across her palms then pulled it tight with her fists. It made an audible snap.

You mewling baby. You quivering amoeba. Waste your time dragging the damn lake. You will never find Lord Wriothesley there.

Just another jumped up plod coming onto the grieving widow, like so many before. With his ugly clothes and bad teeth and gimcrack grammar school gallantry.

What a virgin.

A trembling lip, a glistening eyelash at the right moment, that would be all it took. He would cry afterwards. They all did.

And then … and then …  he would become like the others, all the Lord Wriothesleys and Sir Johns and Sir James and  Sir Andrews, like all the men who had crossed her path. He would disappear and she would remain.

Swings and slides and garden gates School and work and village fetes

That is our life our daybright life

But at full moon our teeth grow long The weak are snapped up by the strong

That is our life our moonlit life

Bones will grind and claws will catch Blood will flow and jaws will snatch

Hurry hurry hurry, can’t wait to look at you.

Hurry hurry hurry, can’t wait to get you home.

When you were gone I felt I’d died too. Now I’ve got you back things will be different.

I will not go on tour with the band when things are bad between us which used to be always.

We will spend our days together. We will really have that talk about maybe one day starting a family.

I will not write songs about other women and pretend they are about you. I promise.

I will not get drunk so much. I really mean it this time.

Hurry hurry hurry, can’t wait to look at you.

One little baby, sitting on a cloud Mama gives him a big kiss Mama is so proud

Two little babies, wriggling their toes Mama's going to knit them Some cheerful cosy clothes

Three little babies, wrapped up tight Keep laughing baby Mama is all right

Four little babies, playing with their toys Mama has a special gift For all the girls and boys

Five little babies, puffing out their cheeks Mama takes them for a walk Away down to the creek

'Jeez, she should be here by now. I mean, the hurly burly was done half an hour ago already.’

'Do you think she got the message about the change of venue? It is a bit out of the way here.'

‘Well she’s got a mobile, she can just look it up like a normal person.’

‘She hasn’t got a smartphone, though.’

‘Jesus, no, seriously.’

‘No, she’s still got one of those old-school ones.'

‘Jesus, so much reverse snobbery about those bloody things. Just get a phone that fucking works like everyone else’s or fuck off already.’

‘Tell me about it. Wait, FINALLY! she just sent a text. ‘Rnnng l@ strt mtg wtht me xx Hec@e

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As the infamous Country Casuals gang, our target of choice was banks on market day . We had the routine down pat. First Aunt Lavinia would case the joint, next day Mum and me would barrel in, pull back the ponchos to reveal the weapons and empty the vault. Then into the getaway car, slaloming around a few stray sheep and off we would go. Auntie Lavinia did a mean handbrake turn.

It was just such a bank job that proved our undoing, Mum’s ‘one last job’ that would pay fees for the classy school she wanted for me and enough left over for her and Auntie L to buy that dream boutique. But the law tracked us down and shot us like dogs. I was the only one of the gang left standing.

Nothing like a lovely holiday!

Walking with Mother, walking with Father, and fields and brooks and wet shoes from wet grass.

Merry times for us all! said Father.

I won't do the dishes! said Mother.

The little birds could see her, tweeting in the fields and brooks, and she put up her hood. But underneath a rock was there, and bit her ankle.

This is a dream, she said.

Make up your mind, said Mother.

Tug, tug! Went Father.

Tug, tug! Went Mother.

Stretch, stretch, went her sleeves, and the seams began to ping.

‘Father and I will leave you now. Today you must find your own way home, children.’

‘But how will we find the way home without you, Mother?

‘We have left a trail of breadcrumbs for you to follow, my son.’

‘And if the birds eat all the breadcrumbs, Father?

‘Then the sun will guide you home, dearest daughter.’

‘And if there’s no sun to guide us home?’

‘Then you will use the moon.’

‘And what if there is no moon?’

‘Then you must pray to God to guide you.’

‘And what if there is no God?’

Finally the last tent peg was hammered in and Robert straightened up.  Then he scowled.

‘I can’t believe old Vaughn let the MOD put that monstrosity there.’ We both gazed at the glistening metal structure rising from the crest of Guisling Hill. From half a mile away it dominated the landscape, its crest of prongs and wires giving it the appearance of a horned pagan idol rather than an arial. Vaughn loved his land and despised the modern age. He must hate the sight of it, yet appreciate the irony.

A chilly breeze rustled through the trees around our little campsite. I shivered, and then something struck me.

‘That’s funny. I can’t hear the birds any more.’

As if by an external force our eyes were drawn back to the metal tower. It now seemed to be emitting a sound of its own, but one which could be felt rather than heard. The back of my neck prickled.

But perhaps the deadliest rivalry which endured in that region was that between the schools of Argyll and Hayfield. From this had arisen a tradition which dictated that every midsummer the schools would send two champions, boy and girl, to meet their opposite numbers on a field and fight to the bitter end.

Weapons were allowed as well as fists and feet, but only those which a child of their age could buy with their own pocket money. And no modifications were permitted, no sharpening of edges, no weighting with metal or stone. Anything brought to the field was rigorously inspected by seconds of the other side, and confiscated if it transgressed the unwritten rules.

“Hello darling,” Maudie said. “Come through. The girls are inside today, it's a little cold.”

Truer words, Clara thought, shooing Hettie down the hall and settling in the kitchen. Maudie already had the kettle going, and reached for the tea in the cabinet above Clara's head. Clara blinked, and averted her eyes.

“New jumper?”

“You like it?” Maudie tugged at the hem, pulling the wool tight, turning this way, that.

“It's a lovely fit,” Clara said, after a moment. “It's a very lovely fit.”

Power Poses

Clockwise from top left:

The ‘Cat’

The ‘Sequoia’

The ‘Cobra’

The ‘Half Cobra’

The ‘Mountain’